Lil Humans
Mohammad
One look into
his face and the only word that pops into your mind is drugs. One wouldn’t
linger for long on his face with its completely blanked out expression. Except
for his open eyes he seems fast asleep. I think in my mind whether the effect
of the drug on his brain can be reversed at all and strongly doubt it. I move
on to the other children who seem more present. I must say in fact that I don’t
even clearly remember the times I met him. He never uttered a word. He had run
away as a small child from his home and the streets have been his home since.
He made a living out of rag picking
When I
visited the deaddiction centre later where he was admitted, I was quite struck
by this same young man who had a smile on his face which one couldn’t take
their eyes off. The glint in his eyes stupefied me. It was like a dead body had
come to life. And to top it all he was talking nineteen to a dozen. He
was overflowing with joy.
After some
months at the centre he became a volunteer and was beside himself with pride at
the sudden change and growth in his life. Alas who was to know his pride
would go before his fall. After completing his time he insisted on going back
to his community before we transferred him to another centre which was for
adults and had agreed to keep him as he was 17. For some days he was advising
and helping others regarding the addiction but soon it was clear he was
faltering. It was time to move him to the centre. We reached there along with
one more 17yr old who had taken treatment along with him. Unlike the previous
centre this one was more spacious and comfortable and they didn’t keep
inhabitants under lock and key. The other boy looked excited and happy to be
there but for some reason a sort of gloom started spreading over Mohammad’s
face. As we did the admission formalities his face became darker and darker and
he told us that he wouldn’t like to stay there. We were shocked and started
questioning him as to exactly what was the matter. All he said was he didn’t
like the inmates there. He maintained a stoic expression much to our
consternation and even as we became steadily angry at the choice he was making
he became more and more stubborn. After a lot of counseling and reminding him
that the community he was going back to would suck him into its web of drugs
and crime with no roof over his head. His mind was made. He felt he could
counsel the people in his community. As I said the pride of being a volunteer
at the previous centre made him feel that it was not a time for him to be under
authority but be the authority. Plus he seemed to have had small dose of the
drug in the morning (perhaps as a last time). With deep sorrow and anger at his
rebellion we dropped him back to the land of darkness. We vowed not to put him
back there until he understood its value. Sure enough within 3-4 days he came
to the staff at the community crying to forgive his mistake. We told him it
wasn’t possible anymore. After a couple of weeks of his breakdown we put him
back and he is now leading a life full of joy and peace and never wants to
leave the place and the vocational work that he does there.
Sadaf
A child you
cannot forget. I met him first on the streets of Sadar. Torn clothes, as dirty
as can possibly be and with searching eyes. One look and you’d know there is no
drug he hasn’t done. Apparently he was always interested in treatment. Whereas
for others we would have to spend weeks counseling before they’d be convinced
about treatment he was ready from day one. Having lived a life on the murky
sinister streets of Delhi he had had enough. He wanted to escape the wretched
life. He was a runaway from and when I met him he breathed ate and drank drugs.
That was the beginning and ending of his life. In the first batch of children
we sent for rehabilitation we were unable to send him. It broke our heart to
see his eagerness and our predicament. He was losing weight and was all but a
bag of bones. We promised to send him in the next batch. But like all children
on the street he was hard to trace in the next some weeks. He would keep
disappearing and reappearing and missed several batches. In one of our medical
checkups we conducted on the streets Sadaf came too and the doctor after one
look at his chest and stomach said he had a very serious case of TB and
wouldn’t survive very long. We connected him to a DOTS center but he didn’t
have the determination to take medications regularly. Very soon we were able to
send him to the rehabilitation centre. We were glad now his treatment could be
followed up. I remember the day he came to our office on his way to the rehab
centre. I asked him how he was and how was his TB. He looked me in the eye and
said “I am healed”. I asked with an incredulous but hopeful look, ‘How?’ He
said, ‘God healed me’ as if it was so very obvious and I should have known
better. I was amazed by his childlike faith and thanked God quietly.
In two days
we got a call to take him back as his TB was too severe and they couldn’t
handle it. As we had no place of our own. We contacted a missionary hospital who
helped the poor with treatment. They readily agreed to keep Sadaf but since it
was evening already they said they would keep him in their own night shelter.
Unfortunately we were informed the next morning that he ran away from the
shelter in the night as he didn’t like the homeless who were there. It was
extreme winter at the time. Sadaf disappeared from our lives for months until
one day we heard the shocking news of his death.
Armaan
I first met
Armaan in his home. The wide open streets of Delhi. He and his entire family
consisting of several generations lived at a major roundabout in Delhi. We
started our work here by just going and spending time with the children here,
talking and singing songs with them. On one such occasion we were all sitting together
in the park at the roundabout. All the children crowded around me. Suddenly I
noticed this young boy’s foot which looked badly swollen. When I asked him what
had happened to his foot he coolly showed me the underside of his foot and I
saw a deep cut that didn’t look good at all. Even as I grimaced I asked him if
it wasn’t hurting. He must have been 9 years old then. His answer displayed the
wisdom seen in a 90 year old. He said, ‘ there’s no point concentrating on the
pain…it will only make it worse…if we cant handle these small irritants how
will we handle bigger problems of life?’. A novice on the street, I was
speechless. Being a qualified counselor I wondered who of the both of us really
needed it at that moment. As I got to know him better I found he had twinkling
eyes and a beautiful smile but was also capable of being very very serious. It
turned out he was the youngest of 9 children and his mother was one of the
wiser ones in the community.
I continued
to be friendly with him but found that while at times he would speak a lot, at
other times he would not even smile or look in my direction, as if angry with
me. At times he was full of positivity and at other times he was very negative
about everything including the work we did. His nephews were around his age
which perhaps maybe one of the reasons for his being so mature. His father
having passed away a long while ago along with his brothers he too shared the
responsibility to provide for the family. He begged at the red lights and
sometimes sold some toys too.
Soon before
the commonwealth games the entire community was moved into a shelter not too
far from their ‘home’. Our NFE centre continued there and slowly children were
enrolled into a government school nearby. Armaan started in 1st standard
and started enjoying going to school. He was determined to make the most of
this opportunity and also did very well at school.
Navya
The workshop
was in full swing in the hall booked by us. When I reached it was a break time
where children were getting an opportunity to display their talent. One
sprightly little girl who seemed to be around 6 years old jumped up and started
prancing about to a music only she could hear. After a period of amazed silence
soon the children started cheering her on fascinated by her complete abandon.
The little girl’s eyes sparkled to see the rapt attention she got. I did not
get a chance at further interaction with her that day but did see her animated
face popping out of the crowd from time to time as she engaged in the workshop.
It wasn’t
long before I was visiting that community and was in search of a particular
child who had gone back to drugs after taking treatment. After a long search
I was told he may have gone rag picking somewhere. Soon enough I found
myself in front of Navya's home. Just on an impulse I asked her if she might
help me find him. She jumped up and as we walked through the shanties she told
me that he must have gone rag picking. I asked her why he did that. She replied
that poor people need to work hard to fill their stomachs. Quite surprised by
her adult like statements I egged on and asked her if rich people didn’t need
to work hard. Well they have gold coins to depend on and they get poor people
to do their work. I chewed on this for a while as we snaked our way through
rather unsuccessfully in search of the lost. Soon we were at the parking lot.
As we went deeper into the shady lot little Navya stopped me in my tracks and
asked me to stay put while she ventured further and searched for the boy. I
asked her why I couldn’t come along and pat came the reply that it wasn’t safe
for me. Just for a moment my independent fearless personality took a
backseat and I froze where I stood marveling with a deep sense of sadness as
this little child tried to protect me from the evil out there. She kept turning
around and commanded me to stay where I was as she scrounged under the parked
vehicles there.
We didn’t
find the boy that day but perhaps my days purpose was achieved in a way I
couldn’t possibly explain.
In my next
visit I met her along with another friend and found she was a singer par
excellence. I asked her to sing and recorded her clear chirpy voice belting out
the lyrics of a popular bollywood chartbuster. Her squeaky but melodious voice
remains one of my phones ringtones much to my husbands annoyance!
Her mother is
a drug dealer and her father an addict who is in and out of jail. Her eldest
brother too follows in the fathers footsteps, is on drugs and has served 2
years too in prison. In the midst of this darkness this little child stands out
like a lotus that gives you joy much before you could give it anything…
After some
months I was in that area for a medical camp and I visited her home. Very
uncharacteristically she was sitting with a morose expression and didn’t look
up at me despite our friendship. Her sister and brother were there too. Navya
had covered herself with a dupatta and sat staring into the ground. After some
small talk I asked her sister what happened to her. That’s when she told me
that Navya had burnt herself badly on her chest. Before I could protest she
opened up the dupatta to show me the little childs badly burnt chest with pus
formation. While I was cringing to avoid going through the pain of seeing the
wound I couldn’t begin to imagine what the child was going through. I looked at
her stoic expression with a new perception. Her brother and sister laughed and
joked as if nothing had happened. I thought back to my childhood and how
lovingly my mother would come and check on us, feed us, give us our medicine
even if we had a fever and my eyes filled up with tears at the injustice. I
asked her older sister who is around 20years about her medication. She said
Navya would know about that. This little six year old girl even though part of
a family had no one to care for her in such an extreme situation. I touched her
forehead and it was burning. She was running a fever . I held her and
asked her if I could pray for her. She put her head down and started weeping
not being used to the loving attention. It just about broke my heart. I asked
her several times after that with no response. Her siblings insisted that I
should go ahead and pray but I said I wouldn’t unless Navya said so. Soon her
mother was back from work. She informed me how they had taken her to a
quack and he had advised them to rub oil over her wound. I asked the mother
what medicines the doctor had given and she in turn asked Navya for the
details. I was horrified at the degree of neglect. I advised the mother to take
her to a government hospital and get proper treatment. As I started to leave
Navya spoke her first sentence of the hour I spent there asking me to pray in a
hoarse voice. I placed my hand on her and prayed with tears streaming down my
face. It was time to leave. I left for the camp as she waved me goodbye with a
smile. Soon I was back and took her to the doctor who prescribed medicines. I
met her father who was clearly intoxicated but forced him to go buy the
medicines. On my way back I stopped by her home again and found her laughing
and playing and was a little at ease. In a couple of days she recovered
completely.
ALI
This boy
looked like a rogue. We were in a children’s club meeting and a heated
discussion was on. He looked aloof and disinterested in the proceedings. The
look on his face was of an adult irritated by the ruckus of children. I was
amused. When I addressed him he looked even more irritated. Soon all the
children seeing my focus of attention started voicing their opinions about him.
‘Ma’am he’s a hooligan, he’s an addict, he beats other children up, he teaches
others to take drugs, he’s a thief’, they ranted!!
The child’s
expression changed from a sheepish smile to an angry scowl as he threatened
those around him. I called him to myself, took his hands in mine and declared
that he was the nicest boy I’d ever met and would surely be the most well
behaved there very soon. I also insisted that he would be an inspiring leader
to all there. He looked at me and looked down, hiding his expression. Did I
really believe what I said? Maybe not. But I sure knew God had made a perfect
child.
The next time
I went there I visited his family. Peeping into his home I saw something very
interesting. He sat at the ledge of his home sipping tea. He did not look up
once at me or show a sign of recognition though he knew me well by then. His
mother was cooking breakfast. If it wasn’t for his 11yrs old frame one would
think he was the head of the family. His expression was exactly like that of a
father with a huge weight of responsibility on his shoulders. I ruffled his
hair and moved on. It was no surprise considering the fact that his mom was a
drug dealer and his father and elder brother were both addicts. He picked rags
to support the family or perhaps to hide the illicit trade that was going on.
He had 7 siblings. It was a well-known fact that he was a gang leader and had led
many to drugs including many who were much older to him. I met him several
times and often found wounds on his body which reminded me of our pet tom cat
when I was a child who would keep getting into fights and return home
wounded. With a lot of positive affirmations I saw how this child too
turned around. Soon he dropped by the office on his way to a drug deaddiction
camp. He had a wide grin on his face as he met me with an expression of pride
at making the right decision. Soon he was ready to take a longer treatment for
his addiction. When we took him for admission he had a deep wound on his head
as he was beaten up by the police when caught stealing metal at the railway
station. After a few weeks he was a changed boy. It was as if a cloud lifted
off his face to reveal the most beautiful smile ever. Though he spoke to a
minimum the joy on his face was unmistakable. He recovered completely and when
he returned to his family they were relieved beyond words. His little sisters
confessed that he didn’t beat them up anymore! The boy’s mother declared he was
a changed ‘man’! People in the community were shocked to see his angelic face
and hear his changed tongue. Surely this was not…..??. The gang leader’s
followers were mighty confused. They couldn’t believe their big boss was a
changed man and was not interested in drugs anymore. Each time I went to
the community he comes and stand right beside me enjoying the attention I give
him. Slowly but surely with this conversion in 4 children of this community
drugs slowly started bowing its way out. School has become the exciting option.
Ustaad
It was during
one of our visits to the centre of a community whose primary occupation was
begging. We had an especially hard time with this community as one could almost
say that begging was a drug they hated to give up. We tried all sorts of ways
to train them on some skills or help them start some businesses but they would
come right back to begging. The children had all settled in into the class. The
older ones who were in regular and open school were trained separately. As I
watched the younger ones settling in I saw for the first time an extremely puny
little boy whose growth was of a two year old but looked much older. I was
drawn to him and went in closer to speak with him. The instant I started
talking to him he started crying. I tried to pacify him and then realized that
since I was the cause I would have to remove myself. I drew as far back as
possible and stopped looking at him too but the crying just wouldn’t stop. A
child crying is something I can’t bear to witness and I was really torn to see
his helpless tears. I asked the kids around him and they said that he was
always crying. The next time I went there he was in the class. The moment he
saw me he stopped facing the teacher and turned his back on me even while the
class was on. I just didn’t know what to do. I could hardly believe that the
child was so afraid that I might speak to him how much ever lovingly that would
be. The moment the volunteer asked him to sit straight he was crying again. He
would talk to no one. His little brother, was there too, who was just as tiny
and hesitant to talk but managed to respond. The boy’s name was Ustaad.
The next time
was a meeting with parents and I met the childs mum. The father had passed away
some years ago and the mother was providing for her 3 children. I asked her if
something had happened to him when he was small or if she had some problems
when she was carrying him. At first she couldn’t recall anything and then she
remembered. When Ustaad was just a year old she was boiling some water in the
open and had moved away for a moment. Ustaad, as he played around, hit the
vessel by mistake and was drenched in the boiling water. His skin burned and as
he rolled on the ground his skin peeled off. As the pain increased he rubbed
himself on the ground more unknowingly. By the time his mother noticed his one
side was badly scalded. From then on he walked with a limp and became an object
of scorn for other children. His confidence sunk and he became a child who
cried at the drop of a hat. My eyes moistened as I heard the story which
changed a happy child into anything but.
The next time
I visited I could see that he was troubled to see me but I made sure not to pay
much attention to him. I called his brother and spoke to him and played some
games with all the children. Even though Ustaad was participating he was
clearly affected by my presence and didn’t budge from where he was seated even
though it was his turn. I was saddened to see how the child was not able to
receive love even in the most basic form of communication because of his
experiences.
However
slowly in my next few interactions I found changes. He started meeting my eye,
coming near me and continued being active while I was around. The next
time he was even smiling right into my eyes. The NFE was clearly doing him a
world of good.
Sheila
Her eyes set
her apart. From a group of drugged eyes they hit me like the rays of the sun in
a dark prison. She darted from one place to another just like fish in a bowl.
Chattering constantly, I was the last of her objects of interest. I tried
to get the attention of the 6 year old with little success. Called her to
me and asked her if she had ever used drugs. Without batting an
eyelid she said, she’d done them all, smack, ganja, solution, alcohol,
cigarette. She was very proud of what she had just uttered knowing she now had
everyone’s amused attention. It was clear she was fibbing. I was amazed to find
a 6 year old with the ability to lie so effortlessly!!
But then I
would soon know that age was only a number that bore little significance to her
state of mind.
As the class
run by the NFE teacher was in progress things were quite disorganized. Some
children played carom, others drew and some others were writing the alphabet on
the slates provided to them. In this group of children aged between 4-10
barring only Sheila (who later insisted that she had definitely smoked!!) all
were on drugs. They all carried the solution dipped handkerchiefs in their
pockets which they took out every now and then to sniff without being seen by
the volunteer if possible. Even standing next to this group would give one a
headache..so strong was the smell of the drug. My heart went out to these children.
Could it get any worse? Living on the street, orphans in most cases, abused and
on drugs and so so small. My attention went back to Sheila. She was narrating
the story of Sadhna’s(12yrs) marriage to Duggu with all knowing expressions.
She claimed she could take me to meet Duggu too! On the street you’re
practically an adult by the age of 9 years and physical relations are not
uncommon. In this case it just meant that the two were hanging out together,
not legally married. I called Sheila to myself again. I held her frail hands
and looked into her large eyes and started speaking to her. I told her, ‘You
are so beautiful and also a really good person for God has created you and I
know you would never speak words of abuse or take drugs’. These
words had a magical effect on her. I became the focus of her attention.
She suddenly found someone who said the opposite of what she had always heard
about herself. She refused to leave my side and kept chatting with me. She told
me her mum didn’t love her and beat her with a stick everyday and that her
father was not with them anymore. She begged for a living.
With or
without parents, I just wanted to get the kids out of that place. Couldn’t bear
to see them there anymore.
In one of our
subsequent meetings as we sat in the park and spoke to the kids…Sheila came
close and squatted in front of me. She would get up and go in between saying
she had to go somewhere and couldn’t stay. She would go and be back again in a
minute! The exercise was repeated several times throughout our meeting. The
whole objective being to convince me that she was a very busy little lady with
many important things to do and sitting next to me was something she really
didn’t have time for!
Later we
connected her mother(a drug dealer) with a children’s home we knew of to put
Sheila and a younger sibling into, away from this unprotected haven of evil.
The director of that home later shared how Sheila proudly claimed to the 2
dozen children there the day she entered that she was married and had slept
with her husband.
It took some
time for her to adjust in to the lack of freedom, lack of earning (through
begging) and discipline in the home.
But slowly
and surely she would be a little girl again.
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